Volume VIII Part 10 (1/2)

Mrs. Ascott-Smith looked at him sympathetically, and he coughed twice.

”You are suffering,” she said. ”Lord Frederic, you really must not urge him to expose himself. Have you a pain here?” she inquired, touching herself in the region of the pleura.

”Yes,” said Mr. Carteret, ”it is rather bad, but I daresay that it will soon be better.”

”I am afraid that it may be pneumonia,” said his hostess. ”You must take a medicine that I have. They say that it is quite wonderful for inflammatory colds. I'll send Hodgson for it,” and she touched the bell.

”Please, please don't take that trouble,” entreated Mr. Carteret.

”But you must take it,” said Mrs. Ascott-Smith. ”They call it Broncholine. You pour it in a tin and inhale it or swallow it, I forget which, but it's very efficacious. They used it on Teddy's pony when it was sick. The little creature died but that was because they gave it too much, or not enough, I forget which.”

Hodgson appeared and Mrs. Ascott-Smith gave directions about the Broncholine.

”I thank you very much,” said Mr. Carteret humbly. ”I'll go to my room and try it at once.”

”That's a good chap!” said Lord Frederic, ”perhaps you will feel so much better that you can join us.

”Perhaps,” said Mr. Carteret gloomily, ”or it may work as it did on the pony.” And he left the room.

After Hodgson had departed from his chamber leaving explicit directions as to how and how not to use the excellent Broncholine, Mr. Carteret poured a quant.i.ty of it from the bottle and threw it out of the window resolving to be on the safe side. Then he looked at his boots and his pink coat and white leathers which were laid out upon a chair. ”I don't think there can be any danger,” he thought, ”if I turn up after they have started. I loathe stopping in all day.” He dressed leisurely, ordered his horse, and some time after the rest of the household had sallied forth, he followed. As he knew the country and the coverts which Lord Ploversdale would draw, he counted on joining the tail of the hunt, thus keeping out of sight. He inquired of a rustic if he had seen hounds pa.s.s and receiving ”no,” for an answer he jogged on at a faster trot, fearing that the hounds might have gone away in some other direction. As he came around a bend in the road, he saw four women riding toward him, and as they drew near, he saw that it was Lady Violet Weatherbone and her three daughters. These young ladies were known as the Three Guardsmen, a sobriquet not wholly inappropriate; for, as Lord Frederic described them, they were ”uncommon big boned, upstanding fillies,”

between twenty-five and thirty and very hard goers across any country, and always together.

”Good morning,” said Mr. Carteret, bowing. ”I suppose the hounds are close by?” It was a natural a.s.sumption, as Lady Violet on hunting days was never very far from the hounds.

”I do not know,” she responded, and her tone further implied that she did not care.

Mr. Carteret hesitated a moment. ”Has anything happened?” he asked.

”Yes,” said Lady Violet frankly, ”something has happened.” Here the daughters modestly turned their horses away.

”Some one,” continued Lady Violet, ”brought savages to the meet.” She paused impressively.

”Not really!” said Mr. Carteret with hypocritical surprise.

”Yes,” said Lady Violet, ”and while it would have mattered little to me, it was impossible--” She motioned with her head toward the three maidens, and paused.

”Forgive me,” said Mr. Carteret, ”but I hardly understand.”

”At the first I thought,” said Lady Violet, ”that they were attired in painted fles.h.i.+ngs, but upon using my gla.s.s, it was clear that I was mistaken. Otherwise, I should have brought them away at the first moment.”

”I see,” said Mr. Carteret. ”It is outrageous.”

”It is indeed!” said Lady Violet; ”but the matter will not be allowed to drop. They were brought to the meet by that young profligate, Lord Frederic Westcote.”

”You surprise me,” said Mr. Carteret, wholly without shame. He bowed, started his horse, and jogged along for five minutes, then he turned to the right upon a crossroad and suddenly found himself upon the hounds.

They were feathering excitedly about the mouth of a tile drain into which the fox had evidently gone. No master, huntsmen nor whips were in sight, but sitting, wet and mud daubed, upon horses dripping with muddy water were Grady dressed in cowboy costume and three naked Indians. Mr.

Carteret glanced about over the country and understood. They had swum the brook at the place where it ran between steep clay banks and the rest of the field had gone around to the bridge. As he looked toward the south, he saw Lord Ploversdale riding furiously toward him followed by Smith, the first whip. Grady had not recognized him turned out in pink as he was, and for the moment he decided to remain incognito.

Before Lord Ploversdale, Master of Fox-hounds, reached the road, he began waving his crop. He appeared excited. ”What do you mean by riding upon my hounds?” he shouted. He said this in several ways with various accompanying phrases, but neither the Indians nor Grady seemed to notice him. It occurred to Mr. Carteret that although Lord Ploversdale's power of expression was wonderful for England, it, nevertheless, fell short of Arizona standards. Then, however, he noticed that Grady was absorbed in adjusting a kodak camera, with which he was evidently about to take a picture of the Indians alone with the hounds. He drew back in order both to avoid being in the field of the picture and to avoid too close proximity with Lord Ploversdale as he came over the fence into the road.